Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC. The Joker, Batman, and John Blake belong to DC Comics.

Chapter Fourteen


"What were you hoping to prove? That deep down, everyone's as ugly as you? You're alone."

/

Charlie was right, Charlotte realized. She'd never been to a place like the Narrows before.

The drive in hadn't been pleasant. Through the tinted windows Charlotte could see everything you would find in a Gangster film. Pimps and their whores stood on street curbs, there were homeless people a-plenty, and the whole damn place reeked of poverty, disease, and misfortune.

The Escalade (which was probably the most expensive item currently in the area) slowed before pulling up to a large, dilapidated red-brick building. It was late afternoon now, probably quite close to evening, but Charlotte could still see heat waves hitting the building. The car door opened, and Charlie stepped out before turning to her.

"Keep yourself covered," He muttered, grabbing Charlotte's grey hood and positioning it over her head. Making sure all of her hair was concealed, Charlotte stepped out with Charlie's help. He held onto her elbow, as he'd been instructed to. The girl might look weak, but she couldn't be trusted. Joker had trusted him with her safekeeping, and he would his job.

The men piled out of the cars, about 3 more had pulled up. Charlotte watched with Charlie by her side as men began to unload cargo. She remembered Charlie asking for the keys, and hearing him curse when someone responded that the other car, which had yet to pull up, contained the keys to the warehouse.

"Well, we can't all just wait out here all fucking night until the Boss' car comes with the keys."Charlie grumbled, clearly trying to reign in his irritation. "Happy, go round the back and get the spares, will ya? If any homeless fuck is sleeping back there, shoot 'em. Can't have anyone knowing we're back."

Charlotte stared up at Charlie with disbelief, whom for some reason she'd put on a pedestal when it came to resorting to violence. He glared back at her harshly, making her understand. He wasn't the Joker's right hand man for no reason, she thought stupidly. He clearly knew how to handle business.

Happy disappeared towards the back, as ordered. A few moments passed. Suddenly, gunshots rang through the place. Too many to be distributed from one gun. Despite the danger, Charlotte couldn't help but want to laugh. There definitely wasn't a homeless man back there.

Everything turned into a frenzy. Charlotte was grabbed unceremoniously as Happy came back stumbling, bloodied and yelling about cops.

"Fucking Hell!" Charlie exclaimed gruffly, taking out his gun and grabbing Charlotte simultaneously. Charlotte found herself being slammed against the car as multiple gunshots rained down on their end. A few of the Joker's men were starting to drop like flies. Cop cars began to emerge, a clear attack. The yelling in Charlotte's head blurred with the yelling that was actually happening.

"The fire escape, get to the fire escape!" Charlie screamed at her, blocking her with his body as much as he could. He wouldn't be able to keep her safe, this was turning into a disaster. Bullets clanged against the armored car as Charlie pushed Charlotte away from him. Panicked, Charlotte began to do what Charlie had told her. She'd reached the fire escape easily, it'd only been about ten feet away from her. Her fingers were bloody, she didn't know how or why, but she paused to look at them curling around the rusty metal railing. Charlotte looked back to see Charlie half crouched behind the car and egging her on. He'd looked back too long, and Charlotte screamed as a bullet tore through his shoulder.

Charlotte's breath halted as Charlie stumbled against the car.

Something changed then. Suddenly, the fire escape wasn't an option anymore. Charlotte's ankle twisted around, and the next thing she knew she was running. Her hood left her head uselessly, blonde hair coming undone and whipping through the air.

/

Charlotte had never been so terrified in her entire life.

Her feet were skidding against the pavement, and her hood had long been soaked to her scalp, but she couldn't stop running.

The whole world was one big misty blur of grey. Rained poured down on her like acid, and Charlotte could barely breathe anymore. After what seemed like forever, Charlotte forced herself to stop. She was very far away from the Narrows now, she was sure of it. In fact, as Charlotte wiped away the mixture of tears and raindrops from her face, she could barely make out the outline of the Gotham Bridge in the fog. If she could just make it there, she'd be able to run out of the city. Maybe start over. It was silly to even think of getting back to her parents. Too much time had passed since her kidnapping, so much had happened. Going back would most likely only make things worse. The only thing she could do now was try to disappear, and hope that no one, especially him, ever found her again.

"He won't let you go. You know that."

Pushing that thought away, Charlotte pulled her soaked hood closer to her forehead and got ready to run across the street. Looking right and left, all she could see was grey through the storm.

One step was all she took, and the next moment she was colliding with something, hard.

Charlotte's head hit the pavement with a dull thud, making her see stars. Of course, she thought hazily. Of course she would get hit by a car. Charlotte didn't know why she wasn't surprised - perhaps it was the trauma from the blow, but she simply laid there...sinking into the stone ground. As her vision began to fog, Charlotte swore she saw the Joker hovering over her, just like the first time.

She hoped she was hallucinating, maybe even half-dead.

Quite simply, she hoped to never wake up.

/

Luck never seemed to be on Charlotte's side, did it?

"No," she groaned as her eyes blinked slowly. She was back in the Escalade, in the passenger seat this time. Charlotte's head hit the window with a small squeaking noise. She sighed against the glass, slightly comforted by the warm gust of air coming through the AC. "Please...why can't you just let me die?" She croaked. Charlotte didn't have the energy to be mad or afraid anymore.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Miss Marlone. And try to keep your head up, you banged it pretty hard back there," A deep voice chuckled.

The voice was slightly unfamiliar, throwing Charlotte off. That definitely wasn't the Joker's tone.

Charlotte jerked abruptly, instantly regretting it as several of her vertebrae popped. Charlotte cringed in pain as she looked to the left, finally facing her driver.

"Officer Blake?" She said in disbelief. The man only smiled grimly, his strong jawline flexing.

"That would be me. Glad you're awake, we've been waiting a long time for this moment, Miss Marlone." John Blake said as warmly as he could. Although he still knew he would end up looking stern, he tried to grace Charlotte with the warmest and friendliest smile he could. The girl was clearly shaken, mentally and physically. She probably hadn't had any type of comforting glances given to her since her kidnapping. She'd spent months with that psychopath, and it showed. The sweet, shaken up girl he'd met a few months ago was gone. Instead, a jittery, darker Charlotte had replaced her. The innocent shine in her eyes was practically all gone. The blue in them seemed to burn a lot less brighter now. But the Joker hadn't broken her...not yet. At least, that's what Blake thought.

"Was that your car? The one that hit me?" Charlotte questioned as her memory came floating back to her. She remembered feeling the cold, slick metal of the car slam against her body. John Blake nodded admittedly, looking both ashamed and irritated.

"Yes, I apologize," he said, "But I will say that you're lucky it was me. Another car could've really hurt you, or just left you there. About another forty minutes in that rain and you wouldn't exactly be alive and kicking."

'I barely am now' Charlotte wanted to say, but bit her lip to keep her mouth shut. John kept his eyes on the road as Charlotte studied him silently. The only sound between them came from the windshield wipers against the pounding rain. John Blake looked...different. To say the least. He'd been at least ten times healthier the last time she'd seen him - with glowing skin and a thick head of lustrous hair. Now everything about him seemed dull and stale. He was still handsome of course, and it was hard not to notice...but something was definitely missing. Something had changed him.

"Thank you," was all Charlotte could bring herself to say. "For saving me."

If Charlotte could remember how to use her emotions, she probably would've cried. But to be honest, she just felt...off. Like a part of her wasn't there. John Blake simply chuckled softly, taking his eyes off of the gloomy road for a brief second to glance at her.

"Not a problem," he said. 'It's my job' he almost said, but couldn't bear it. The whole situation meant more to him than that. But what was he supposed to say? That saving her meant more to him than she could possibly understand? Charlotte's head slid back forlornly against the leather headrest, sealing his decision.

No, no. 'Not a problem' would have to suffice.

/

Charlotte closed her eyes and was silent for a while. Her nerves were entirely shot, and she didn't know whether or not she was having a mental breakdown. Because of this, she just decided to let Officer Blake do most of the talking. The ride was long and mysterious, and he talked for a very long time. Charlotte's brain refused to work properly. It refused to catch and process the entirety of Blake's sentences. The three important bits stood out, though.

Number one: They were currently on their way to Gotham's Police Headquarters, where she would be processed.

Number two: They would be alerting her parents immediately after her processing was completed.

And, number three: She would be subjected to questioning and a mental health examination. Simply put by Blake: "Just to see if everything's alright up there."

At that comment, Charlotte decided that being sliced across the face with a blade would probably hurt less. At least he'd tried to put it nicely.

After explaining Charlotte's future procedure up to every painstakingly small detail, John announced that they would have to stop for gas. He'd already been running pretty low on it when he'd picked her up. Charlotte somewhat sighed in relief at the thought of being able to stretch out her feet.

/

At the small, semi-decent gas station, Charlotte turned to John with a blank face. "So I guess asking to pee is out of the question?"

Blake paused for a moment, leaning against the car door. Charlotte paused hesitantly, looking away from the handsome officer. "I figured."

"Actually, no," Blake responded, making up his mind. "But you'll have to be quick. And I'm afraid I'll have to come in there with you. Safety precautions and all."

Charlotte responded with a small nod, and waited until John came around her side to open the door and escort her into the gas station. She hated the way he looked at her, like she was unpredictable. She couldn't blame the man for doing his job though.

As they entered the small gas station's quickie mart, Charlotte exhaled with relief that the heated car had practically dried her hoodie. Otherwise, she'd be freezing. "Would you like something?" Charlotte heard Blake ask her, as she went to enter the small, dirty restroom.

"Um, no. No thank you." Charlotte responded quietly. The man had already been so kind to her as is. John Blake nodded.

"I'll be out here. No longer than five minutes, okay?"

Charlotte didn't respond, she'd already shut herself in the small bathroom. After locking the door, Charlotte's back hit the dirty wall, head cradled in her hands. Oh God, what was she going to do? This wasn't okay, nothing was okay. She wasn't okay.

Charlotte focused on her breaths as best as she could as she stared up at the small, flickering bulb lighting the bathroom. It smelled like a sewer and was small and dark...but she could think in here.

She didn't want to go back, she realized. Her parents would be mortified, she was basically dead to them anyways...it had been months. They'd think she was so damaged, and she didn't want to hurt them that way. Charlotte couldn't bear it, going into the small questioning room and seeing their faces. It'd be like seeing a ghost. Charlotte wanted to puke. She wanted to suffocate in the small bathroom, finally be dead just like everyone thought she'd been this whole time.

And the Joker? Ha, like he'd just let her walk away unscathed! He'd hurt everyone to get her back! Charlotte knew the way he looked at her. The Joker wasn't planning on letting her go anytime soon. Through this crazy revelation, Charlotte kept breathing, or what probably sounded like heaving to the outside world.

The outside world...she didn't belong to it anymore, did she? Even sitting in a car with a familiar officer was almost too overwhelming for her. And in the damned gas station, filled with its bright lights and happy things like the bright wrappers of foods she'd once enjoyed...it was all too much. So much.

So pointless.

How were people able to go through their daily lives coming to places like a gas station when there were psychopaths everywhere? They all didn't wear masks like the Joker.

Out, she wanted out.

Charlotte knew she had to act fast, but how? There was no way she was getting out of John Blake's sight.

Unless...

Charlotte's head snapped up so quickly hurt. Surely enough, the tiniest window stared down at her from the wall. It was a reach, but she would try. She didn't have much time. Hurriedly, Charlotte scrambled to get her bearings and climb up from the sink. Her converse were muddy and wet, and they slipped each time she tried to get a good grip.

"Fuck!" Charlotte cursed, not knowing how much time she had left. What she did know, was that this was her last shot at getting away.

The moment her fingers came into contact with the window screen felt heavenly. Charlotte tore it away, ignoring the rust that was now embedded beneath her fingernails, making her bleed. With one arm curled through the window and one foot against the wall, Charlotte began to hoist herself up, the feeling of outside rain and air hitting her fingers giving her adrenaline. Her other foot had been about to catapult half of her body out of the grimy window when Blake's voice sounded, making her slip. Her heel banged roughly against the faucet, setting off a stream of water.

"Charlotte? Hurry please, we're on a tight schedule!" John Blake's voice rang from the other side of the door. She heard his knuckles hit the door, and she was so thankful she'd locked it. Blake was right about one thing - she didn't have much time.

"I'm coming!" Charlotte stuttered, struggling to push herself out. She tried not to sound suspicious or panicked, but as Blake's knuckles rapped harder against the door, she knew it was now or never. "O-One second please! I'm sorry!" She called out.

She meant it.

"I'm so sorry," Charlotte whispered as John began to bang harder on the door, urging her to hurry and come out. Without another sound, Charlotte hurled herself backwards out of the window.

/

The water seeping under the door and pooling around his feet alerted John that his worst fear had, in fact, come true. With a burst of anger and two hard shoves, John kicked the door down to find an empty and very wet bathroom. John Blake couldn't help it, he cursed loudly at the sight of the tiny open window. Without another word, John dropped his coffee and made for the door. The dark coffee splattered across the floor, before blending in murkily with the water.

/

A mistake, a big mistake.

Charlotte was inexplicably lost. She wanted to scold herself for not thinking this through, but stopped herself when she realized it was impossible to do so anyways. She'd stopped running a long time ago, around five hours ago when she realized that wandering around pointlessly would get her nothing except probably raped, and that no one would be willing to give her a hitchhike ride in her current state.

Charlotte had decided to go back to the Joker and his Hell. She knew she would face death at his hands one day anyways, whether she was reunited with her family or not. It was fate, and it was going to happen no matter how long Charlotte tried to prolong it. She would just end up saving a lot more lives this way.

The sky was so dark it was nearly black, and there were no visible stars in this part of the city. Charlotte's world felt like a big black hole. She was just...numb. The severity of her situation hadn't hit her yet, and perhaps that's why she was able to think at a slightly stable level.

Charlotte knew she'd reached The Narrows when rats began to skid over her feet, and when the sounds of occasional gunshots rang through the air. These didn't affect Charlotte as they had when she'd first arrived. They only made her walk faster.

Her feet were bleeding. She could feel the warm blood making her toes stick together.

The orange hue of the street lights made her eyes burn, but she kept her hood up and kept going. She didn't know how she would be able to tell these buildings apart. Or if the Joker and his gang were even still around this part of the city.

Charlotte didn't know how many times she'd circled the neighborhood until a familiar black Escalade pulled up beside her. A black window rolled down smoothly before the familiar faces of two goons stared back at her. Charlotte didn't know whether to feel relieved or to start running again. Feeling her knees buckle, she quickly decided on the first option.

"Get in, Miss."